


let's dance and laugh and love and let's just live

by Seraphinu



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Custom MU, Custom Robin, Established Relationship, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 00:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21024485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraphinu/pseuds/Seraphinu
Summary: Everything else felt so far away during these moments, stolen between battles. The other Shepherds, the campfire, the war that seemed to stretch endlessly to the horizon.Wren and Cherche dance, sharing a kiss, and a promise to protect one another.For F!Robin Femslash Week





	let's dance and laugh and love and let's just live

**Author's Note:**

> Featuring my custom robin/oc Wren! For reference she is Build 3, Face 1, Hair 2, Hair color 8  
Other notes: She's buff, she's a lesbian, and she rides a wyvern into battle! 
> 
> This was originally a random writing prompt(the prompt was slow dance) but I decided to finish it for F!Robin Femslash week instead. It doesn't really fit the day's prompt(meeting/blush) but that's okay! It kind of does if you squint. Wren blushes. It counts I guess.
> 
> Also shoutout to my buddy dorca for their *chef's kiss* headcanons regarding Rosannean culture that I borrowed for this fic.

The gentle strum of a harp sets a dreamy mood over the camp that night. Even the campfire seems entranced by the sound, flickering to the beat of the wistful melody. Cordelia plucks the strings almost effortlessly, her audience enthralled.

Wren closes her eyes, drawing in a slow breath as smoky air fills her lungs. It's almost dizzying, and she pushes herself to her feet, turning to her partner seated beside her. Cherche raises a brow, curious at the tactician’s behavior until Wren extends her hand in invitation. 

“Dance with me?” She asks, grinning. Cherche's smile, even for however long they've been a couple, still has the power to make her knees weak. The wyvern rider takes her hand, and, in a move that only serves to fluster Wren further, delicately plants a kiss on the inside of her wrist.

In a fluid motion, Cherche rises, allowing Wren to lead her a few feet away from where they were seated. Cherche's hands come to rest at Wren's waist, and Wren drapes her arms across Cherche's shoulders. Cherche pulls Wren in a little closer, until their foreheads are pressed together. She can nearly see every thought telegraphed in her gaze; that single, lovely, bronze eye that the fire light seems to dance in. 

They sway, in tune with the harp's chords, drifting over them like a daydream. Everything else seems to fall away around them. The other Shepherds, the campsite, the war that seemed to stretch endlessly ahead. It all parted in the wake of this simple warmth between them. These moments stolen between harrowing battles. 

When any night can be their last, it spurs them to spend them together, as much as Wren's impossible schedule will allow. She sighs, shifting so that her chin is resting on Cherche’s shoulder.  
“What is it, dearest?” Cherche murmurs into Wren’s ear, though they continue to turn in a slow circle together. 

"I'm… happy. It's such a strange thought, to be happy in the midst of all this turmoil…"

Cherche tuts at Wren's answer, guiding their steps to a halt. She pulls away only slightly, one of the hands at Wren's waist coming up to cup her cheek, gently caressing with the pad of her thumb. "My dear, silly Wren. It is not a crime to find happiness in a time like this. It just means you have a personal stake, now. While others fight for their families back home… yours is right here with you."

Wren's eyes flutter closed, leaning into Cherche's touch. Smiling against her palm, Wren plants a kiss there. "We shall protect each other, my sweet bird," Cherche continues, tilting Wren's face away from her palm, ceasing the need for words by capturing Wren's lips with her own. 

The moment is cut short when someone awkwardly clears their throat, reminding the pair that they're out in the open. The harp has long since stopped; how long were they standing like this, blissfully unaware of the world around them? 

"Heh… perhaps we should retire for tonight, Cherche." Wren finally breaks their embrace, but entwines their fingers instead. Cherche just smiles, and laughs, gently teasing at Wren's embarrassed flush.  
"Alright, my dear."


End file.
